


Your Lamps Will Call Me Home

by beta_cygni



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mildly Underage, Mutual Pining, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform, a near brush with sex assault, age difference ish, but not a gorefest, fair bit of dialogue idk, it's going to be hot no worries, mention of neglect, some violence, there's going to be sex never sure how specific to get with my tags on this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beta_cygni/pseuds/beta_cygni
Summary: Loki heard the deep, snarling growl.His blood ran cold but he did not freeze, his legs picking up the pace as his mind raced to identify the source and direction of the noise. Perhaps it was merely some raccoon or badger, or any other relatively innocuous creature known to produce otherworldly sounds.It’s a raccoon; it’s a fox; it’s an owl; it’s a...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right. Guilt is burning a hole at the back of my head because I REALLY should be updating my pile of unfinished fics (which I'm totally working on I swear) and very much NOT be putting more out there and god I tried so hard... But I promise this one is going very well and I'M GONNA BE BETTER OKAY? I'M DOING THIS *Rocky Balboa music*

As Loki drained the last dregs of warm, insipid beer, he wondered how many more it would take to achieve a state that could pass for  _ fun. _

 

His eyes made a slow survey of his  _ companions _ as they lounged around the fire, taking turns coaxing the haphazard pile of branches and tinder, as if each knew more about the science of fire than the next one and could take credit for igniting the smoking, sputtering mess into a proper pyre.

 

He wondered what it would take to achieve a state that could pass for  _ camaraderie _ . 

 

It had been a bit odd, first having Cory of all people insisting he joins the camping trip, then Loki actually accepting. Loki wasn’t normally up for such group bonding efforts, but there had been a sense of change in the air that summer. Most of them had turned eighteen, the prospect of leaving school years behind was looming and there was a drive to explore more novel, more social, more  _ adult _ things; leaving their regular grind behind and getting plastered a couple of hours away from basic civilization being one of the more accessible and popular options. 

 

Of course, it had been about halfway through the ride out of town when Loki had fully realized how stupid an idea it had been. They had stalled for nearly a quarter of an hour at a pit stop, Brandon and Alex insisting that the girl at the gas station counter could be swayed into tagging along; maybe they could wait until her shift was over and  _ oh fuck yeah, she’s hot; wait she’s calling her friend too? What is she doing? Aw fuck, so she’s not coming? Make up your mind dude… Okay are we driving now? Yeah, whatever what a bitch...  _

 

This would be the longest, most pointless three days of Loki’s life, he surmised. He couldn’t fathom what impulse had made him tag along. 

 

Was it as pathetic as a faint promise of friendship? 

 

Cory and him had known each other for a long time- sometimes going as far as playing video games at Cory’s house, merely a handful of times since grade 8- but they weren’t exactly  _ friends.  _ That said, Loki had been coming to the conclusion that his understanding of the term was skewed, that this sort of general hovering of people around each other was as good as it got in their circle. You probably had to be smart and happy and affluent and just generally  _ fucking great _ to be the kind of people who’d form things like meaningful relationships, whatever that was. Loki couldn’t name anyone who qualified. 

 

He sometimes liked to think he was smart, if nothing else.

 

However, considering that he had climbed in that dirty, old car rattling to some remote hole with a bunch of rowdy kids in overgrowing bodies, this was probably too charitable an assessment.

 

Loki flinched back as a beer bottle appeared inches from his face.

 

“Hey, you’re empty…” Cory said has he waved it around, practically shoving it at Loki before he accepted it from him.

 

How many had the others already had? Were they all drunk or just hyper and giddy from the trip? Loki could barely feel the first one but he wasn’t eager to be having much more. He was getting hungry fast and nobody seemed inclined to be coming up with actual meal plans beyond barley juice. No big shock there. He was thinking of digging up the bread and dumb convenient store food they’d grabbed on the way but Cory kept nudging at him.

 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun…”

 

“No, it’s alright…” Loki waved dismissively, wondering how on earth everyone seemed able to muster so much damn  _ fun  _ except for him.

 

Suddenly Cory was pulling him up by the arm, looking excited.

 

“You’re just  _ bored _ …” He snickered, “Come on…”

 

He was pulling Loki away from the fire and the other guys gathered around an MP3 player, bickering about some playlist or band.

 

Darkness was falling fast and Loki had misgivings about diving into the gloomy thicket; but Cory looked very keen on telling or showing him something  _ fun _ or whatever. Loki was even mildly curious.

 

They stumbled behind a cluster of large trees, completely blocked from the campsite, tinny music only drifting faintly to them. Cory, a bit out of breath, turned to Loki and grinned.

 

“What?” Loki demanded; what was the the big surprise?

 

“Okay…” Cory huffed out; he had a weird look. Then he quickly fiddled with his jeans’ button and shoved them down his legs. Then he stood there, staring at Loki.

 

“Uh, okay?” Loki cringed a bit. This was just odd. Was it meant to be funny?

 

Cory’s eyebrows did some expectant  _ thing _ . He took one step towards Loki- a short one since his pants were around his thighs. He cupped himself through his grey boxers.

 

“Come on;” He insisted, “You like this, right?”

 

_ Oh my fucking god really? _

 

Great; this wasn’t some very fucking inept attempt at slapstick. So Cory was one of those  _ super 110% not-gay _ type wanting to get a piece on the side. Loki could have been really offended right then but,  _ you know what, no harm no foul. _ Loki could sympathize that it sucked to be in the closet; especially so damn deep and so incredibly dumb about it.

 

“Look, it’s all good; but I’m just not into...  _ this _ ;  _ now _ ….”

 

_ Certainly not with you. _

 

He did his best to be not-gutting, which he thought was pretty good, but Cory’s face dropped. Not  _ just _ a drop; there was a hint of storm there.

 

“What do you mean? I know you’d fucking like it; it’s  _ fucking blatant _ …”

 

“Okay, whatever. We’re not doing that.” Loki was still trying to manage some quick, relatively pain-free brush-off but it was getting difficult with a rapidly rising blood pressure. He turned to walk back out of the dark but Cory grabbed his sleeve.

 

Loki whipped his arm around and away. This was turning  _ extremely not cool _ .

 

“Calm the fuck down! I’m going back now…”

 

“ _ I’m _ fucking calm;  _ you’re _ being all fucking bitchy… What’s up?” Cory hissed at him; he now looked downright angry, all trace of shy tentativeness gone.

 

Loki felt his heart hammering in his chest. It was best to say nothing, no matter how disgusted he was at this point. He stepped again towards camp but once again Cory tried pulling him back. Loki snapped:

 

“Okay,  _ stop _ or I’m fucking telling all of them…”

 

Loki sensed it wasn’t an especially good threat; it was weak but he hadn’t been able to think up anything else.

 

Cory’s face formed a nasty smile, more a show of teeth than anything.

 

“You think they’re gonna care? They didn’t even  _ want _ you to come along.  _ I _ told them to let you…”

 

With this, Loki felt every hair on his body bristle with fury; and he was grateful for it, the anger shielding him from any possible speck of  _ hurt _ he could have felt. He whirled to face Cory.

 

“Wow, was that some  _ huge favour _ you did me?” He spat, “You think I  _ owe _ you for  _ that _ ?? No wonder you can’t ever  _ get any _ . What a fucking _ joke _ ...”

 

“Hey, you’re strutting around like you’re hot shit; what do  _ you _ really got? Huh?”

 

Cory’s drunken eyes flashed and he stomped towards Loki whose mind flashed from rage to an instinctive fear. Why was it like this? People turning ugly on him so fast?

 

“Come on, show me what you’re so good at...”

 

Loki was tall and fit but Cory was heavier, coarser. Though he pondered the option of hitting him, Loki wasn’t keen on letting the menacing boy get close enough to do so. With a quick swipe he picked up a good sized branch off the ground.

 

“Get the  _ fuck _ away from me,  _ Cory _ ...” He warned though Cory kept approaching.

 

The clumsy, grabbing motion Cory made towards him was what made Loki swing.  _ Don’t touch me _ he thought as he felt the stick connect with more force than expected, along with a fleshy scrape that dragged on Cory’s face.

 

Loki felt a surge of panic as he saw Cory bend forward, cussing with hands flying to his face. This had escalated too quickly. He had meant for Cory to step back but there was no telling how violent Cory would become now that first blood had been spilled. Not that Loki was one bit sorry. However he was acutely aware that he had no allies, stranded with a pack of drunken guys- and not a single true friend- in the middle of nowhere. 

 

They would all turn on him. They wouldn’t think twice.

 

As Cory cursed, Loki dropped the stick and bolted away through the trees, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Lord of the Flies. 

 

_ Yeah; flies _ .  _ Fuck them.  _ That’s what they all were, Loki thought bitterly as he ran. All of them blindly feeding and soiling, just like his stepfather, his so-called brothers; that whole pathetic town. If anyone dared to show a little hope, a little pride, there they came; swarming like mayflies, mottling the light. Why couldn’t he just escape for good and leave it all far behind? Never return; never even think back on any of it...

 

He knew better of course. He had to somehow make it back home, however dismal, and just file this trip under  _ fucked-up mistake _ along with the many other things on his long list. There was no way he would return to camp where Cory was most likely already selling him out to the others as some  _ crazy bastard _ and  _ whore _ or whatever nasty twist it took. If he could circle past them and return to the road, he could probably find a ride back into town, even if it required walking all night.

 

He felt the warm mist rising from the cooling ground as he skipped over roots and brush. The night was growing cool. Thankfully a bright moon had risen above the trees, providing some light so that Loki could spot deeper holes and drops through the forest ground, pitch black areas among gloomy patches of leaves. Over his shuffling and snapping of brush, he could only hear his own shuddering breath and muttered curses. 

 

Then he heard the deep, snarling growl.

 

His blood ran cold but he did not freeze, his legs picking up the pace as his mind raced to identify the source and direction of the noise. Perhaps it was merely some raccoon or badger, or any other relatively innocuous creature known to produce otherworldly sounds.  _ It’s a raccoon; it’s a fox; it’s an owl; it’s a...  _

 

There was a loud crashing, shuffling sound to his left. Before he could react, Loki felt a violent blow, snapping his head to the side and knocking him clear off his feet. He rolled once over the plush and prickly ground, his ears ringing with pain, before trying to recover on his hands and knees.

 

_ Oh god… oh fuck… _

 

Disoriented, he made out loud snapping and growling sounds before powerful arms grabbed him about the chest from behind. Gasping in shock, he bucked against the sudden onslaught. He made out a harsh, deep voice close to his ear:

 

“ _ Shhhh _ … Keep still… “

 

_ What the hell? Brandon _ …  _ Brandon has a deep voice. _ .. Loki thought in a frenzy, thinking the camp gang had caught up with him. Though this was wrong; Brandon wasn’t as tall as Loki; he didn’t have such strong, hulking arms either. Loki did not know this  _ scent _ , earthy and musky; not some  _ boy _ ’s scent, tainted with beer and cheap, lurid deodorant. A man- a very strong, large man- was clutching him.

 

“ _ Shit… Ugh… _ ”  

 

Loki kicked at the ground and squirmed against the body holding him tight. He thought he had managed to throw his assailant off-keel when he swung around and was met with a loud, unearthly screech; a hot, fetid breath steaming over his own face. His heart nearly leapt out of his own throat as he briefly glimpsed a large form, shadowed against the moonlight before he was violently jerked backwards. A sharp pain to the side of his head burst into stars behind his eyelids, blinding him.  _ Fuck, _ he thought in a daze;  _ I won’t even know how I die _ .

  
_ Maybe nobody will ever find out. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look I'm being good; adding the part where Thor appears right away because it sucks to wait

Loki could faintly sense something a little scratchy against his face; though it was also plush and warm. The dull pain in his head made him want to curl deeper into it and fall back to sleep. However flashes of flight, terror and savage noises cut through his torpor and he forced his eyes open. 

 

He was shocked to find himself in a small room, fragrant with musty wood and a hint of smoke. Loki took in the thick log walls and the faint, warm light streaming from the doorway- though there was no actual door. He was in some sort of cabin, lying on a bed, atop its thick flannel blanket. 

 

He sat upright and winced as the change in pressure made his headache throb anew. He palmed at the tender spot above his temple; a goose egg was already forming there. 

 

A shifting sound from the next room sent his heart racing. 

 

He remembered the rough voice and strong grip. A man had grabbed him and taken him here.  _ Why? _ Loki struggled to piece the frenzied memories back together. Cory was being an asshole; then Loki ran, then… big arms lifting him; then a blow to his head. 

 

_ Oh shit… _

 

Swallowing thickly, he cautiously rose from the bed, grateful that the stodgy wooden frame would not creak and give away his motions. 

 

He stood a safe distance from the doorway, scanning the main room by craning his neck. The cabin looked cozy but largely utilitarian. There was a solid wood table- bare at the moment, a sink and counter with several cups hanging neatly on nails. Loki could spot what looked like a washing machine tucked in a corner cluttered with tools. The sight of such mundane implements somehow creeped him out even more.  _ Someone really lives here.  _ It made the situation seem stark and real, not some fever dream or fairy tale. Here he was in this...  _ man _ ’s home... and serial killers drank coffee, did laundry and lived alone with their secrets;  _ they looked so normal; nobody knew _ ... Was the small refrigerator in the corner full of hands and heads?

 

Loki fought the urge to bolt towards the door to the outside, of which he had a clear line of sight but which was at the opposite end of the room and blocked by the large table. Furthermore, he had yet to locate the cabin’s resident; though this was quickly resolved. A quiet grunt startled him and he took a step sideways to peer at a corner of the room so far out of sight. It was where the large iron wood stove stood, its low, arched window casting a bright orange streak on the polished floorboards. The man was sitting on a short stool before it, his back mostly turned to Loki. Hunched over, he seemed occupied with some task though Loki could only see his back and leg. He was shirtless, wearing black jeans and heavy boots. Loki scarcely dared blink, animated by a vague fear that his gaze skimming over him could stir the stranger. 

 

He also felt a pang of shame at making note of the rather impressive display of wide shoulders and chiseled flank muscles. The man was both big and lean, his form tall and looming before the fire, despite sitting stooped over. Loki couldn’t help pondering with dismay- and not nearly enough horror in his opinion- how easily this guy must have carried him after he’d passed out. He recalled the power of that grip. He felt his face heat up at the thought.

 

_ Holy fuck shut up, so what... Jeffrey Dahmer was considered ‘winsome’; fat lot of good that was. You creep, this is not  _ hot _ by any goddamn stretch. You could be dead and even  _ worse _ beforehand… _

 

A few choice barbaric thoughts seemed to fan his dread back to acceptable levels and Loki returned to devising a way to weave his way to freedom without attracting the guy’s attention. Through the window, he could see the faint outline of trees painted against a grayish dawn. Had he really been out cold all night? He could have been killed forty different ways by then, which probably proved that the man wanted him  _ alive _ ; at least for a while.

 

Which was  _ not exciting in any fucking way. Holy shit; really? _ Being eighteen and most likely a bit messed-up really sucked. He had never considered any sort of counseling before; yet if he somehow managed to escape this and ended up thinking back on it and  _ jerking off _ , even he could see that it would be light-years away from  _ wholesome _ . He could scarcely believe that in his current predicament, he was stalling on account of being disgusted with himself.

 

_ Come on; everybody’s fucked up. It’s just some crazy coping brain mechanism; like shock. Just focus; you’re not ending up in a fucking freezer. _

 

He had silently inched away from the bedroom and was almost at the halfway point of the room when the man stood up with a sigh and turned.

 

Reality utterly stopped as Loki stared back at the man.

 

Electric blue. That was his eye colour; keen and bright. The proverbial headlights.

 

It seemed they stood there frozen in an infinite loop of time as Loki’s thoughts were the only thing left in motion in the universe.

 

_ Now you die painfully you moron. I can’t fucking believe this shit! It’s your fault; you didn’t want to run away fast enough. It’s like you very fucking wanted this, oh my god  _ why _ though; you are such a fuck-up! I don’t want to die though… Can I just… Maybe if I… _

 

“Hey, you’re up.” 

 

The man’s voice, so deep but  _ calm _ , pierced through Loki’s mind like a big rock tossed in water, the fat ripples washing over everything else. Loki still couldn’t speak or move however. Then the man’s piercing gaze fell away from him as he rubbed his hands clean with a cloth. He had what looked like a hand towel hanging off a shoulder. It reminded Loki of someone drying dishes after dinner. Totally  _ normal shit _ . Without the man’s stare on him, Loki gathered enough of his brains to try negotiating.

 

“Okay, look; what are you going to do? Can you just tell me? What do you want?” 

 

“Nothing. How’s the head?”

 

The man’s low, unaffected voice was like a slap, leaving Loki completely befuddled. Was this just the beginning of a round of crazy head-games or maybe the guy  _ wasn’t _ some sadistic predator? Loki gazed tentatively at the outside again, through the window. The glow from the fire was still brighter than the weak morning light but day would be rising soon. The man added, as if he had guessed Loki’s intentions:

 

“Don’t go out now. It’ll be safer when the sun is higher.”

 

It didn’t sound like a warning or threat, just a statement of fact. After a long pause Loki turned suspicious eyes back onto him.

 

“So… I  _ can _ leave; later?” He ventured slowly.

 

Blue eyes met his again; it wasn’t quite a smile but the man shrugged.

 

“Yeah; gotta go home right?”

 

It took a fair bit of restraint for Loki not to slump over with relief. It was looking more and more like he wasn’t going to get sliced to bits for sport. He was in absolutely no way  _ disappointed _ with that fact either, which added to his relief that he wasn’t in fact animated by gross, self-destructive perversions; just stress- and, well, hormones.

 

On the other hand…

 

Why then had the man dragged him here? What the hell had happened? As Loki felt doubt bubbling up his spine again, the man removed the towel off his shoulder and Loki’s eyes widened.

 

There was a mess of flesh and glistening blood, arranged in four, ragged slashes, from the apex of the shoulder nearly down to the sternum. 

 

“Oh my  _ god _ .” Loki let out sharply, shocked by the ghastly injury. Suddenly, the memory of a large, acrid  _ mouth _ and a dark shape blocking the moon resurfaced. He had been running, scared; that…  _ thing _ had been right up to his face; the man’s voice behind him, pulling him away…

 

“Oh my god…” He said again quietly, and he tried piecing the new realization together, “What happened? Did I… did we get  _ attacked _ or something?”

 

The man had another small shrug; he rinsed blood off the towel in the sink, wringing it before placing it again over the wounds with a faint wince.

 

“There are some dangerous beasts around here,” He eventually replied, “Didn’t you see the signs?  _ Keep out - Private property _ …” He shot Loki a pointed look. Loki shrugged in turn.

 

“We didn’t pay attention I guess.”

 

“Oh, you were with those other kids?” The man raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well; not really. I was pretty much getting  _ away _ from them. So whatever.” Loki trailed off as the man frowned, making it clear he didn’t want to linger on that topic. “So what  _ was _ that thing? A bear?” He asked, his mind returning to the nasty claw marks.

 

Once again the answer was dull; evasive.

 

“Something like that.”

 

Loki was quiet for a moment, worrying his lip as a full realization sank in. 

 

“So… You…  _ saved _ my life?” It was more an expression of surprise than a question. It was evident that the man had faced off with- and fended off- something large and potentially lethal.

 

That was…  _ awesome? _

 

Loki shuffled with discomfort. He didn’t know how to react or what to say, unaccustomed to people doing something really…  _ nice _ for him. Saving him from a vicious animal was pretty monumental an act. He was so used to disregard petty meanness and slights, pretending that everything rolled off his back, keeping a hard, cold front. How was he supposed to contend with  _ this _ ? It was an odd, vulnerable feeling; his pride bristling, not knowing how to handle…  _ gratitude _ .

 

“Wow. Thank you…” He managed stiffly, eyes on the floor, both hoping and doubting that it was enough, yet wishing that it wouldn’t get any more... intense. The man merely huffed:

 

“It’s okay; ‘happens.”

 

Loki grimaced a bit, thinking that getting mauled by wildlife wasn’t his idea of  _ no big deal _ , but he was glad to be spared from further awkwardness as the man moved on.

 

“So, how’s the head? Maybe you should sleep a bit longer; I can show you the way back to your campsite a bit later...”

 

The man must have noticed the look of distaste fall over Loki’s face; he cocked his head.

 

“C’mon; they’ll be looking for you. Your family’s going to go nuts…”

 

At this, Loki couldn’t hold back a loud snort.

 

“Look, not going to get into the whole daytime television drama here, but trust me;  _ nobody _ ’s gonna go nuts over me.” 

 

His eyes darted back out the window.

 

Where _should_ he go? He didn’t want to see _those_ assholes again, for sure. Come to think of it, the thought of walking back into his stepdad’s crummy house, past the pile of stinking, stale beer empties which never made it to recycling, trying to head to his basement room without facing vaguely threatening looks from his big brother- who had grown downright hostile since he’d sniffed out that Loki might never actually be interested in _tapping Lisa next door_ precisely because she was a _she_ and why the fuck did he care anyway?... Anyway; that whole arrangement, Loki had been _done_ with for so long. Maybe it was getting clocked in the head by a bear that brought the point home, but life had to be better than that, at some point or another. That point couldn’t come soon enough.

 

Loki could vividly imagine how the news of his _disappearance_ would slowly spread. After a couple of days, Byl would wonder whether younger bro was off doing something that could somehow look bad on _him,_ then find out he’d vanished in the woods after ‘ _he’d had the nerve to hit on Cory’;_ at that point everyone involved would agree that him dying of exposure in the deep woods would save them all the burden of kicking his ass and whatnot. And Laufey would probably never sober up long enough to notice anything different; however there’d be a couple more hundred bucks of welfare money to get more beer. Great all around.

 

Loki had not noticed how long he had sulked in silence until a clatter made him look to the table next to him. 

 

_ What the fuck? _ The guy had made a couple of  _ sandwiches. Shit,  _ maybe Loki did need more sleep, or had suffered a concussion. Where did that come from?

 

“You don’t have to  _ feed _ me or anything…” He protested.

 

The bear wrestler just shrugged-  _ again _ \- and sat at the table, grabbing his own sandwich for a hearty bite. 

 

At this point, Loki was aching, tired, embarrassed, sullen and very confused; yet the sound of lettuce crisply snapping as the man bit into it undermined everything. Loki was  _ so fucking hungry _ . 

 

He hesitated a few minutes, not wanting to go back so abruptly on his previous assertion but...  _ whatever _ ; the guy just shrugged at everything anyway. 

 

Loki sat as casually as he could on a chair and feigned inspecting the sandwich with disdain. He soon was determined to hold back moans as he tore through the dark, nutty bread, thickly-sliced ham, mayo  _ and  _ lettuce. What kind of bear-fighting woodsman dude put  _ lettuce _ in his sandwiches; and used fancy grain bread with  _ seeds _ and shit? Sandwiches had always been sad, limp, pasty white things.

 

Well, after his mom had died, anyway.  _ She _ ’d used lettuce.

 

_Shit_ , he was so hungry, the food was almost painful going down; but it felt great. After all, he’d only had a beer when they’d set up camp, then adrenaline rushes of all sorts and a night from hell. He glanced forward to see the man staring at him but it was too late now; he could hardly pretend the food wasn’t _totally_ _fucking appreciated_ anymore. He stared back down at the plate and focused on chewing enough not to choke.

 

“Alright… You sure the FBI won’t be combing the woods any minute now?” He heard the man ask.

 

“D’you have any money?” Loki managed to utter, mouth stuffed with the last remnants of the meal, “B’cause if you do I’m betting on it.”

 

After Loki slumped back, dazed by the combination of his lingering headache and the meals’ intense satisfaction, the man rose and cleared the plates off the table. He grabbed a thick shirt off a chair and slipped it on, pulling it gingerly over the wound. Loki followed his movements with increasingly heavy eyelids.

 

“Just get some more sleep.” The man said as he opened the front door, tendrils of cool, humid air reaching Loki’s face. 

 

Loki found himself nodding; he didn’t care about objecting- or about  _ anything _ really- anymore. This plan was fine by him.

 

“‘Name’s Thor;” The man said before stepping out in the pale morning light, “If you need to call me; I’m just out here.”

  
  


****

 

It had been nearly four hours. 

 

The sun was getting high now, setting the stage for a windless, balmy late-summer day. The boy had still been sound asleep when Thor had glanced in at him fifteen minutes ago.

 

He had reminded him of a deer, especially when he’d recalled holding and struggling with him the night before; so frightened yet strong, all long limbs, vigorous and desperate for purchase or escape. He had again been near-terrified when he’d first locked eyes with Thor, coming close to hurling himself back out into the wild. Now he was splayed face-first into Thor’s comforter of his own accord, all but dead to the world.

 

Just like deer: Skittish and fleeting until they decided something was  _ interesting _ and worth investigating; then they stuck like glue, abruptly brazen and carefree.

 

Admittedly, Thor couldn’t help being curious about the young man. Even though he had rescued him from the raging beast, Thor could tell the boy had already dealt with his share of demons, that he had been lost before he’d ran astray through the dark forest.

 

He’d believed him the first time he stated that he would not be missed. Thor could plainly recognize it in his wide eyes, that unmistakable weariness. Loneliness wasn’t an absence, it was a burden that ground at and wore down its bearer.  

 

It had been such a long stretch of time since Thor’d last had to intercept the  _ other monster _ ; nearly a full year. Thor had even wondered whether the beast had gone for good.

  
For a while he’d believed that perhaps he was finally, truly  _ alone _ .


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it seems like I can either make really W I D E paragraph spaces or tiny ones. I decided that more breathing space looked more 'comfortable' but please tell me if I'm wrong :P

When Loki sat up this time, the dull throbbing remained located to the bruise on his temple instead of spreading through his skull.

 

The cabin was much brighter now; curtains in reds and dark green allowed sunlight to stream in, motes of dust or pollen glinted golden as they hung nearly still in the air. Loki was struck by how peaceful everything felt, especially in contrast with the events of the past few hours.

 

The only indication that this _Thor_ had been around at all was a bottle of water sitting on the night table. It was sealed and fresh, condensed drops forming on the plastic.

 

 _Christ_ , that weird forest guy was a better host- and generally better at _life_ \- than pretty much anyone Loki had ever known: He could beat down grizzlies, he made proper food, his cabin even smelled good…

 

Loki was parched and downed the whole bottle in four gulps. He was feeling much better than he had earlier. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he wandered through the cabin, getting a proper idea of the full layout. It wasn’t much, mostly the main room, the smaller bedroom attached and a sort of nook in which Loki spotted a shelf full of toiletries and first-aid products and a stand-in shower stall.

 

He could hear a repeated _thunk_ from the outside. What were the odds that the sound was Thor actually chopping wood? Loki pondered that gathering firewood was probably as necessary and recurring an activity among isolated forest-dwellers as Hollywood made it out to be. It still seemed comically typical.

 

Following the sounds, Loki stepped outside, onto the cabin’s small porch. Sure enough, there was Thor’s _back_ again, muscles straining under flannel with every swing of the axe. Loki assumed that this was probably the best hobby around here, glancing at the enormous pile of logs already stacked against the cabin wall. Then again, fall was approaching. You never could have too much warmth.

 

Thor stopped with a grunt. Loki observed him finger at his shoulder gingerly- _oh right_ ; how could he even manage that axe with his mangled shoulder? He spotted a few traces of blood seeping through the fabric of Thor’s shirt, but Thor merely plucked at it, readjusting it around the wound as an afterthought. He slowly turned and his gaze fell onto the porch, finding Loki.   

 

Loki realized that he wasn’t afraid anymore, which was a welcomed feeling, however ill-advised. But sensing those sharp blue eyes on him remained definitely… jittery.

 

“Hey. Didn’t hear you there.” Thor said with a nod.  

 

Loki strolled around the stoop a bit before leaning back against one of the wooden posts.

 

“So… Are you one of those _off-the-grid, tiny-house_ people?”

 

Thor squinted at him, picking up a large log to split.

 

“‘Dunno... Am I?”

 

“Well, you don’t look like some... old retired guy. What are you, thirty-something?”

 

Thor paused a second.

 

“Thirty-two, actually.”

 

“What are you doing way the hell out _here_?”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Caught off-guard, Loki stammered:

 

“Huh?”

 

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

 

“ _Oh_ …” He hesitated a few seconds, “It’s Loki.”

 

Thor peered up at him and grinned.

 

“What?” Loki frowned defensively.

 

“Nothing. It suits you.”

 

Loki suddenly hoped that Thor couldn’t see blood flooding his face from neck to hairline. It wasn’t like it was some _compliment_ or anything; maybe Thor thought his name was odd and stupid and that he looked as much. He really _was_ an idiot getting all flustered for no reason.

 

He sulked a little in silence until he remembered pressing matters.

 

“Um… So, where’s your bathroom?”

 

“ _Bathroom_ or the _loo_?”

 

Loki frowned at the question and Thor pointed somewhere beyond the cabin.

 

“Toilet’s there.”

 

Loki gaped, marching off the stoop to glance in disbelief at the outhouse sitting a few yards into the brush.

 

“Oh man… Really? You’ve been here _how long_?”

 

“It has _walls_.” Thor offered encouragingly.

 

“What do you do in _winter_?”

 

“It all comes out the same way.”

 

Loki performed a simultaneous eye-roll, head shake and nose scrunching.

 

“City guy.” Thor chuckled.

 

“ _Elroy_ is _not_ , by any means, _a city_.” Loki snorted as he reluctantly walked towards the small wooden building. He pondered it an instant before waving to it.

 

“In some ways you’re _so_ not a redneck; but then you have stuff like this…” He sighed as he entered.

 

“Want me to sing so I don’t hear anything?”

 

“Shut up.” Loki mumbled as he closed the door.

  


****

 

At least his phone had been in his pocket when he’d ran away.

 

The wi-fi was predictably non-existent, as Loki had verified, methodically stalking the perimeter around Thor’s cabin. Nonetheless the books he had stored in there and the possibility of curling up with it to read was the one fragment of his life, a rare source of comfort, he was glad to have carried away with him.

 

He hadn’t planned to, yet he had automatically drifted into several chapters as he sat at the table while Thor prepared a huge pot of pasta sauce. It had been so easy to be lulled by the warm, late-afternoon light, the repetitive sounds of vegetables being chopped and faint bubbling from the pans.

 

And the _smell_.

 

Loki was acutely aware of- and dismayed by- his own fascination with Thor preparing food. People _cooked_ . It’s not because _he_ ’d grown up around half-empty refrigerators storing beer, margarine and the odd package of stale lunchmeat that cooking a square meal was a miracle of virtue and alchemy.

 

As his stomach stirred at the scents of frying onion and fresh basil, it struck him as unfair that he felt humiliated by it, the dearth and grime he’d been living with, as if contending with it had been his own making; a passive endorsement. Why had he never picked up some onions and spices himself, instead of some energy drinks or mooching cold pizza Byl had leftover? He could have cooked if he’d really tried.

 

He _could_ do it, from now on.

 

This last, brief thought flashed brightly through his chest. It was hopeful and _good._ It stirred him and he sat upright, eyes leaving the shining screen to glance up at Thor.

 

“It smells really good…” He let out, as if needing to release a little of that thought, that light.  

 

Thor did a little half-glance back, not quite reaching Loki. He poured dry pasta into the saucepan of boiling water and stirred it. Then he turned and leaned back against the counter, considering Loki before smirking:

 

“Still not in a hurry, huh?”

 

Loki shuffled uncomfortably and stared down at the curlicues of knots through the wooden tabletop. Before he could think it through, he retorted “Well… You aren’t either,” which was _dumb_ since Thor actually lived there.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor rubbing his forehead.

 

_Yeah I know, I’m being stupid and brattish. But… I just feel good, and I’m not scared; and I want to make that last a little bit. I know it can’t, but…_

 

“I’m headed into Steele in a few days for supplies. ‘Think you can figure your stuff out by then?”

 

Loki’s head snapped up to Thor in disbelief.

 

“Uh, _yeah_. Yeah, that’s good.”

 

Thor simply turned back to the pasta. He then began gathering bowls and utensils for two settings.

 

Loki felt agitated, unsure whether to try helping- though he didn’t know where anything was- or keeping out of the way. He hadn’t expected this; didn’t know what he expected.

 

He had no idea what he was hoping for.  

 

Once again he sat across from Thor to eat, this time making an effort not to act so ravenous, though every bite of the hot, tasty meal was wonderful.

 

Thor seemed to be the taciturn type, which was appropriate since he lived in isolation. Nonetheless, silence and curiosity were wearing on Loki.

 

“So what do you do? Do you have a job or something?”

 

After his usual pausing, Thor answered.

 

”I do some maintenance work at the general store; couple times a month.”

 

“That’s it? It’s enough money?”

 

“Mostly I just grab the stuff I need in exchange. It’s enough.”

 

 _Huh_ , bartering system. It was cool and made sense; a simple, straightforward living. Yet something nagged at Loki.

 

He kept stealing glances at Thor whenever he was occupied and hadn’t found anything especially _feral_ about him- fighting wild beasts notwithstanding. He was unquestionably rugged, as if he were himself hewn out of solid wood and rich forest loam, yet there was something too cultured about him to suggest he had spent his entire existence in spartan seclusion. He was neat and civil; his eyes were piercing but thoughtful. He was alluring; and still young.

 

“But… why all the way out here?” He ventured, “Isn’t it kind of… lonely?”

 

“You ask a lot of questions…” Thor sighed though he had the hint of a smirk.

 

“They’re _normal_ questions.” Loki argued, undeterred.

 

“You seemed pretty keen on leaving civilization yourself, just yesterday.”

 

Loki scowled.

 

“Yeah, the _dregs_ of it; it doesn’t really count.”

 

“Are you really not going back?”

 

Loki looked up at Thor, whose gaze didn’t seem incredulous; yet Loki felt the need to hold his stare as he answered.

 

“There is nothing to go back to.”  

 

Thor had stopped chewing, considering Loki gravely.

 

“Are your parents that bad or…”

 

“They left _first_ …” Loki scoffed as Thor frowned, “My father was gone right away; I never even met him.” His voice softened a little, “My mom, well… it was _cancer_ …”

 

He speared a large bite of pasta, quickly shoving it in his mouth. Thor’s voice was quiet; soft:

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

Loki shook his head in dismissal, spearing more food.

 

“It was five years ago. It’s not _fresh_ …”

 

They emptied their bowls in silence.

 

This time, Loki swiftly got up and gathered the bowls and forks from the table. He heard Thor rise in turn and walk about the room as Loki cleaned the dishes in the small sink. It felt better to be contributing in some way; maybe so Thor could see that he wasn’t _completely_ lost and useless.

 

When he turned back after drying his hands, he saw that Thor was seated again at the table. There was an open tin in the middle; half-full of thick, white shortbread cookies.

 

Loki’s face fell in surprise.

 

“Oh god; let me guess… Ground the flour with a stone; used _bear fat_ ; baked them in sunlight on the roof?”

 

Thor laughed. It was gravelly and warm.

 

“They’re from the _store_.”

 

****

 

 _Loki_.

It was both soft and hard; the only suitable name for a creature so surreptitious yet bestowed with such a face. What his thin mouth held in, his eyebrows alone gave away; the small knot that formed and vanished between them; the pale, bright eyes underneath. Huddling against murk and gloom yet luciferous as a moon.

 

Thor pictured Loki faring better in winter in this fashion, all that white lost in the snow, like a hare. 

  
He grinned at the thought and once again watched Loki’s eyebrows draw in; that leery, questing look.

 

It was then that he became dimly aware that he could miss this.

 

Perhaps Thor had been away from people for so long that he had forgotten how alluring and comforting it could be; or was that just Loki himself? No. This was dangerous thinking. Loki did not belong here. No one did. It wasn’t safe.

  
Just a couple of days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're still good; cavorting through their 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head' montage
> 
> FOR NOW

Even though the shower had to be expedient- Thor had warned of the low hot water reserves- it felt wonderful to be rid of the dirt and general  _ flavor _ lingering from the previous day. Despite the uneasiness of stripping bare in an unfamiliar space, the water, which tasted crisp and faintly mineral on Loki’s lips, and the plain, coarse soap had been enveloping and cleansing.

 

His feelings were ambivalent again when he found the shirt and boxers Thor had left for him on a stool. The clothing he’d worn was in the wash and he obviously had no alternatives. He was struggling with depending on Thor’s help yet resenting charity. 

 

There were so many things he needed, so many things he  _ wanted _ also. Moreso, he wished to have a sense that he deserved them. 

 

Slipping on Thor’s clothing inevitably brought forth thoughts about  _ Thor _ himself; as much as Loki tried to push them at the back of his mind. Feeling the shirt- almost two sizes too wide- wrapping his body, its slight rasp against his skin, the scents of detergent, of the cabin, of Thor’s  _ life _ woven into the worn threads; it was intimate, much like an actual touch.

 

Loki had not been especially fond of touches. He had been fortunate in this since touching had been scarce among the people close to him; most of them men and boys who occasionally slapped, or yanked, or punched- in either friendly or hostile ways. Girls would touch more, and with more nuance; but it always seemed like they wanted to touch Loki in ways he could not return and so he had avoided most of them. He had come to associate touch with smell and dirt and  _ will _ that others wished to smear upon others; he had never thought he would ever welcome it.

 

But this was so different.

 

Hugging himself, the shirt falling to mid-thigh, he hesitantly stepped to the bedroom where Thor was also getting ready for sleep. Like Loki, he was down to his boxers and an opened shirt.    
  
Pacing about the room, Thor pulled on the tie that held his hair up. Loki hadn’t really noticed before then how long it was, falling past his shoulders; also that it was blond, glossy and bleached by sunlight. Loki had the mindless, nervous impulse of smoothing back his own still damp hair repeatedly with his fingers. He stood in the doorway, finding himself incapable of entering and walking past Thor.

 

Thor hadn’t been in his own bed since the night before, Loki having had usurped it; and Loki wasn’t sure what to do. Eventually, Thor turned to him and Loki felt his heart racing with nerves. He forced himself to speak out:

 

“Uh… Do you have an extra blanket or something? I can just…” He trailed off, pointing at the main room.

 

Thor sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a tired hand over his face and hair.

 

“Look, the floor is not really an option; it’s  _ hard.  _ And cold .” He waved at the opposite side of the bed, “Are you gonna be okay? D’you move a whole lot?”

 

“N-no, I don’t think so…” 

 

Before he could let himself do something ridiculous, like  _ trembling _ , Loki made his way around the bed in a few hurried steps. He lay down as close to the edge as he could, gingerly pulling the thick blankets over himself, as innocuously as possible. Immediately closing his eyes, he nonetheless couldn’t resist peering through his lashes when he felt Thor stir as he removed his own shirt.

 

For a split second, Loki pictured what  _ his _ touch would be like; what Thor’s scent and sweat and  _ will _ would feel like upon Loki... 

 

He screwed his eyes tightly shut again, both mortified and delighted at the thoughts; also wonderstruck at this  _ desire _ . He had experienced the yearning for sex of course. However, he realized, never truly for a specific body, a specific  _ person; _ not before. It was disconcerting. He curled upon himself, facing away from Thor, hoping for sleep to quickly grant him an escape from this novel and vivid need.  

 

Perhaps he could indulge a little, releasing his mind to wander wherever it chose. 

 

He would blame sleep; and dreams. 

 

****

 

At last, Loki was slumbering; his breath deep and even, the occasional shifts of his limbs no longer tense and self-conscious. 

 

In contrast, Thor lay alert despite lacking rest from the night before, Loki’s proximity like a bright flare forcing his eyes and mind awake.

 

He didn’t know what had compelled him to take the young man instead of simply driving the beast away from its victim as he had done several times before. He had been barely sentient by the time he had dragged Loki to his room, all but barricading him inside before hurtling back into the wild, as the moon crested and darkness fully descended upon his own senses. His confusion had been matched only by his relief upon his return when he had found the boy still asleep; unscathed.

 

The  _ other _ beast’s attack had caught him by surprise, after so many moons of silence. Thor had grown a false sense of safety, his vigilance faltering. He had sensed the small group of campers entering the territory but many like them had already trespassed that summer. With no signs of the other one, Thor had decided that, at last, he was now the most dangerous threat left. He had kept at a distance, waiting for daylight to go and instruct them off the property, so that they wouldn’t make a habit of coming to those woods.

 

That night, as he waited for his  _ turning _ , moon still low and rusty above the horizon, he felt the other’s presence and hunger anew; its desire to rend and gorge more acute than it had been in years. Thor had barely made it on time to snatch the lithe form he saw streaking brightly against the night from deadly jaws. There had been a scuffle, though Thor couldn’t recall exactly when the claws tore at his shoulder. The beast had rarely tried so viciously to retrieve a prey from Thor once he stepped in. It normally seemed like a strange, dark game, as if whatever Thor could save in time, he could keep.

 

He usually had enough sense left to leave them behind.

 

He listened to Loki’s breath, sensing the unfamiliar warmth of his body close to his own, nearly touching; arousing… frightening. Had loneliness driven Thor, or had it been a hint of that  _ hunger _ , a sign that he was becoming ever more like the monster?

 

For now, the moon was waning, the night quiet. 

 

Yet Thor lay awake, worrying over what other changes could occur come next moon.

  
  


****

  
  


Loki shoved the phone back into his pocket after another fruitless attempt at receiving any sort of signal.

 

“Still though… You really should get it. You know; you could even watch movies sometimes.”

 

“I don’t  _ need _ it.”

 

Loki sighed irritably.

 

“You’re so far from  _ everything _ . What if something bad happens; you know, like-  _ oh _ \- a  _ bear attack _ ? You could get actual help...”

 

“I’d say I’ve been handling things pretty well so far, don’t you think?”

 

Glaring from the steps of the porch, Loki abandoned the hope of convincing Thor to get wireless internet. For  _ now _ . He could understand wanting to get away from  _ people _ , but not from information. What about entertainment? There was only so much lumber one could gather; or  _ weeds _ , which Thor was currently picking from what vaguely qualified as a front yard.

 

“Why are you  _ saving _ those? They’re just  dandelions .” 

 

“Yeah, good to make wine. I have a couple of batches going…”

 

Loki rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

 

“ _ Seriously? _ ”

 

“Why are you so shocked at everything?”

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ , I wasn’t aware that  _ forest-dwelling _ was so freaking... idyllic, okay? I keep expecting squirrels to barge in and do the housework. It’s so weird.”

 

Thor laughed.

 

“ _ You’re _ weird. I’m going to grab some food soon; are you coming?”

 

Loki sat up in interest, not daring to think about anything  _ normal _ , like pizza.

 

“What? Where?” 

 

The stream was dappled in bright silver and days were still warm enough for the water to feel pleasant around Loki’s ankles. He waited until Thor finished fastening the small netting within a rocky recess and lifted a hand as a signal. Then Loki resumed his task of making a commotion over to his side of the creek, wading and kicking at the water and throwing pebbles. 

 

He couldn’t help the laughing. It seemed so incredibly silly, definitely not something he would have been caught dead doing, not in years; yet it felt joyful. It felt free, the absence of worry that the playfulness would attract the wrong attention or that someone would sneer. 

 

There was only Thor, and he was smiling; monitoring the trap and pointing where Loki ought to strike next.

 

“Got one!” He yelled and bent down to retrieve the catch.

 

“I’m a natural…” Loki said, a bit winded; and hot despite the crisp water and his rolled-up jeans and t-shirt being dotted with wet spatters.

 

The fish were small and their efforts had caught three so far; they were hoping for a least a half-dozen for dinner. Thor added the lastest one to the bucket. Before returning the net, he stopped to remove his shirt and splash some water over his face and chest.

 

Loki felt out of sorts again, caught between the impulse to turn away and the urge to  _ look _ . He crouched and feigned to search for stones while stealing glances at Thor. He was unwisely surveying the sculpted waist, that golden skin, those arms that were probably as big as Loki’s  _ thighs, holy shit healthy-living is good  _ when he suddenly blinked, thinking the sparkling waters were toying with his vision.

 

_ Am I looking at the wrong shoulder? _

 

As Thor fastened the net, Loki got a clear view of his upper torso. He then glimpsed the faint, pale scars, which had been deep, open wounds the day before. He gaped until Thor stood upright and gave him the signal, startling Loki.

 

“Are you alright?” Thor squinted.

 

“Uh, it’s just… Your  _ shoulder _ ; it’s a  _ lot _ better...” Loki exclaimed.

 

He could have sworn that Thor looked a little…  _ timid _ at that moment, his grin wavering and quickly covering his shoulder with a hand, as if he had forgotten all about the injury. He shrugged:

 

“Oh, well… It wasn’t that severe; there was lot of blood. It’s misleading...”

 

Loki raised his eyebrows.

 

“Okay… Please tell me that if I eat more fish and square home-cooked meals I can get superpowers too? Must be a crap ton of selenium or something…”

 

“Selenium?”

 

Loki shrugged in turn.

 

“Oh, it’s just… My dumb brother got heavy into bodybuilding for a while; and all we heard about was  _ metabolic rate _  and  _ repair _ and  _ creatine…  _ And I guess apparently _ ‘ _ selenium’ is good for  _ repair _ and whatnot.” He chuckled and shook his head with glee, “God, if he saw  _ you _ , he would lose his shit. He would  _ die _ .”

 

“You have a brother...” Thor said.

 

“ _ Stepbrother _ ,” Loki corrected, “ _ Brother _ ’s just shorter.”

 

“Don’t you miss him?” Thor asked with a soft, tentative smile.

 

Loki scowled enough to curdle milk.

 

“ _ Hell _ no.”

 

He punctuated this by tossing rocks with renewed vigor, sending panicked fish towards Thor’s net. He glimpsed at Thor and spotted a hint of sadness into his blue eyes. It was jarring there, among that blue meant for cloudless sky; Loki felt a pang of regret at this own petulance.

 

“What about  _ your _ family,” He asked gently, ”The stork didn’t bring you; do you miss  _ them _ ?” 

 

That seemed to make it worse.

 

“All in the past.” Thor said quietly.

 

Loki bit his lip, looking down at his own feet wading through the current.

 

“Hey, can we make a deal?” He asked, “How about we don’t ask each other about shitty family stuff?”

 

He looked up and was relieved to see Thor smiling gently again.

 

“Deal.” He agreed; then yelled, “We got two more!”

  
  


****

 

Loki was beautiful.

 

Tall and pale, like a heron, stalking the water on long legs; his laughter bright, just like the brook’s. His hair, washed of whatever product he had kept it smooth with before, had been falling in waves down to his neck, curls made wilder from the splashing water. Loki would often attempt to slick it back with an annoyed hand. Thor wished he could feel the black strands through his own; cup the delicate nape and sharp jaw.

 

Thor couldn’t fathom why Loki had been neglected and spurned. Perhaps, in some ways, it had been  _ because _ he was beautiful, unable to find his proper place in a dim landscape.

 

Some creatures wanted to tear apart and feed on light. Thor could only hope that he never would.

  
In the meantime, he could enjoy this a while longer; to treasure and gaze back upon when darkness would fall for good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look ANGST just showed up for dinner; yikes.
> 
> (It's a bit of a shorter chapter but it was turning into an absolute monster so I split it... that means there is even more angst coming but also smut)

Eight days had passed this way. 

 

It was far too easy to fall into this new routine with Loki closely following, his questions and wit punctuating what had been Thor’s dull, unremarkable habits after years of repetition. There was a sense of excitement to them as they were discovered through Loki’s eyes.

 

Loki’s eyes had changed as well, they seemed less guarded and distant, as if Loki had emerged from an isolation entirely different from Thor’s own; another kind of wilderness. It was a source of such long-forsaken wonder and warmth, though Thor had to guard himself from its bright lure, ever aware that this was temporary, a brief indulgence. He dutifully reminded himself of the risks and inevitable resolution.

 

It was hardest during those moments when Loki would drift ever closer, circling Thor with tentative steps and furtive glances. It left little doubt over his yearning, both chary and curious, a flitting butterfly dance.

 

Thor would gently eschew this dance, feigning ignorance while he busied himself, distracting them both as best he could from the unspoken need.

 

Nonetheless he had on occasion forgotten himself, thoughtlessly brushing over Loki’s black curls after one of his quips, reaching for his waist as he needed help with the cooking at the wood stove. Thor’s fingers would tingle, electric, for long minutes afterwards as he rushed away from the misdeed.

 

Most treacherous were the long nights when Loki lay asleep, in complete abandon and trust while Thor found himself sleepless, his senses rousing. He could survey at length all that was forbidden; a world lost to him.

 

The sources of delight were endless, however tormenting; how different the soap he had used for years smelled on Loki’s skin, sweeter, with a hint of a spice- of which Thor had forgotten the name- along with that of cool rain. Thor longed to taste and touch; Loki’s long throat, the tender, nervous plane of his belly, the palest flesh of his inner thighs, every place where life’s blood coursed most heatedly under paper-thin skin. The surge of desire would set Thor’s body alight; immediately followed by brisk fear.

 

It felt much too close to hunger, to bloodlust.

 

It was in those moment he would think it had been enough, it had been  _ too much _ ; it was time. 

 

_ Tomorrow _ …

 

Yet Loki had remained.

 

****

 

They were returning from another fishing excursion, the sun just below the horizon, still casting a purple light off the clouds, when Thor abruptly sensed it.

 

The creature was weaving between trees, seeking every shadow for strength and speed, bristling with appetite, with a looming rage. Thor quickly turned to peer through the trees. It was still too far for eyes to catch its dark form. However, it was drawing closer and Thor’s pulse began racing. Why had it waken? The full moon was still week ahead.

 

“Loki…  _ Hurry _ ,” he commanded.

 

Startled, Loki glanced back at him.

 

“What?”

 

Thankfully they were a few yards from the cabin, though too far for Thor’s comfort. He urged Loki again.

 

“Can you sprint for it?”

 

At that, Loki looked alarmed and did not argue, breaking into a run, Thor on his heels.

 

“What the hell is it?” 

 

“Just… Just get inside quickly.”

 

Loki’s legs anxiously picked up speed, leaping over branches and bushes until he reached the porch and turned back to Thor.

 

“You’re creeping me out… Is it some bear again?” he asked, catching his breath.

 

Thor stared at the darkening woods. The creature was still off-sight but circling. He shook his head.

 

“Loki; this place is dangerous,” he sighed, as much to himself as to Loki. 

 

Loki stared at him with some bewilderment.

 

“Yeah, okay; so like  _ woods _ ?” he smirked, masking his fright.

 

They entered and began preparing dinner in silence, Thor keeping discreet watch over the beast’s movements through the forest while Loki slowly got over the unsettling event. Now accustomed to using the cast iron pans on the stove, Loki started by getting the oil to fry the fish. Thor was working on gutting the fish while his eyes kept glancing to the window and the inky blue sky.

 

The  _ other _ seemed to have retreated; Thor had sensed it move further into the wild before losing its trace altogether. However its outburst was distressing, even more so since Thor had sharply felt its intent, like a dull ache within his gut or the echo of a dream. 

 

It was still after Loki. 

 

The creature’s awakening was as unexpected as it was ominous. Thor knew by now that it was no longer human; probably had not been for a very long time. However it had until now stuck to a regular cycle of hunting and sleeping, reliably following the moon’s. Could the turning be triggered independently from the full moon? Could Thor’s own condition change as well, at any moment?

 

He stared at Loki as he moved about the kitchen, his earlier fright seemingly forgotten.

 

Loki would never be safe. It would only be a matter of time. It was one thing to keep the other at bay, but Thor could lose his own battle with the turning, with his own terrible hunger. 

 

He imagined coming to his senses one morning, dazed and covered in blood; he imagined finding Loki…

 

Thor would wait after they had eaten to let Loki know that time was up. At least one of them could enjoy the meal; this one last moment of the solace they’d share.

 

****

 

Loki had showered and was padding into the bedroom.

 

He had stopped holding Thor’s shirt timidly wrapped shut around his body by then, allowing it to freely flow about himself as he walked to bed, His skin like milk within the dark fabric. Whether this was entirely guileless Thor did not know, did not dare surmise. He knew it was unwise to look and be reminded of what would be soon lost; but parts of him did wish to remember.    
  
He sat on his side of the bed, staring at his feet onto the floor as he felt Loki’s weight settling behind him.

 

He didn’t want to turn around, worrying that he couldn’t form the necessary words were he facing Loki.

 

His throat felt so very dry.

 

“Tomorrow...” he said, the sound of his own voice much too loud within the room, “It’s time; I have to get into town.”

 

His hands tightened into fists and for a moment he feared that Loki wouldn’t get the meaning, that Thor would have to strike again.

 

The way Loki stiffened, the air in the room going still and cold, indicated that he had understood.

 

***

 

Even though Loki was curled under the warm blanket, his body was slowly filling with ice.

 

He had no right to be angry or bitter; there was absolutely nothing Thor owed him. He had given him more in two days than Loki had gotten in years- possibly ever- and asked nothing in return. 

 

Why wasn’t it a  _ benefit _ ? Why couldn’t Loki just carry this with him onwards and be stronger for it,  _ better _ ? Why did it have to hurt just like everything else had? No; this felt even worse.

 

_ Maybe I’m just fucking broken. I can’t make anything grow or last or…  _ good _. It always ends up being fucked up anyway; and I’m always miserable and mad at everything… Why can’t it ever be good? _

 

He didn’t want to speak but something had to come out. Perhaps he needed something from Thor,  _ again _ ; just a few more words or an understanding of some sort.

 

His voice was quiet, much softer than it was in his head, forming each word deliberately so they wouldn’t dare break.

 

“You’re so lucky. It’s like… you don’t need anyone. You’re just so much  _ better _ .”

 

Thor barked an equally quiet, mirthless laugh.

 

“ _ God _ no. I’m not  _ better _ than anyone…”

 

The denial was needling Loki. Maybe this was it: He needed a reason to  _ argue,  _ however inane; because it felt like  _ fighting _ for something, however feebly. He suddenly turned, fixing Thor sharply.

 

“Are you joking?” he snapped, “See,  _ I’ve _ been around people lately and yeah; you  _ are _ better.” 

 

Thor was lying face up, fixing the ceiling, his face remote and unreadable. Loki felt more words bubbling up his chest, heated and hissing like steam. Then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be angry, that Thor had been nothing; nothing but  _ kind _ . He swallowed and let himself fall onto his chest. He waited until the surge of heat had passed.

 

“Everybody fucking struggles; but you could make it  _ anywhere _ . Out there; people would be all over you.  _ Fuck _ …The  _ women _ ; probably a solid twenty percent of men too...“ he said, soft again, “But you even  _ know _ better. You know it’s not worth it.”

 

Thor cringed.

 

“Loki… You don’t get it; it’s not like that…”

  
Loki neither moved nor replied. There was nothing left to say.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive into town had been as close to unbearable as Thor had expected.

 

In the morning, he had waken to the feeling of molten lead pooling in his gut and a Loki seemingly carved out of ice, resolutely silent though his eyes were stark and brittle, like shattered glass.

 

Loki had wordlessly followed him through the woods to the unkempt, overgrown path where Thor’s truck waited under a tarp, at the ready for occasional supply runs. He now sat in the passenger seat, empty-handed, wearing the clothes he had escaped with that night again along with the same mantle of remote stoicism. Thor had meant to offer some supplies or food but he had seen the hard set of Loki’s spine and jaw and known that he wouldn’t accept anything. The gesture would only serve to wound Loki’s pride; he was wounded enough as it was.

 

In spite of his efforts at cold detachment, Loki’s pain was evident. Thor could feel its sting through his own bones; or was that all his own? Nonetheless he also endured quietly, keeping resolute distance from Loki. In truth, he desperately wanted to reach for him, feel those cheekbones under his thumbs, assure Loki that he would be better off, that he was luminous and lovely and belonged to the world. But it would have been further cruelty to Loki- as well as himself. It was hard enough severing the delicate tendrils that had sprouted and weaved between them. He had been wrong to allow them to take root and he regretted that Loki was also paying the price. Had it been worth any of it, at all?

 

The ride to Steele had never felt this long, yet Thor still dreaded for it to end.

 

****

 

At last, the truck came to a stop in the gravelly parking lot of the general store and gas station, a jagged, dusty island lost within the vast ocean of trees. Loki saw the few other vehicles halted there. He also spotted the faded Greyhound stop sign. 

 

There it was, just another starting point, another  _ square zero _ to a future that Loki didn’t dare try to envision too clearly anymore. He knew from experience that it was best to take things one day at a time, one move at a time; anything further a recipe for disaster, or brutal disappointment. 

 

As he stepped onto the pebbles, he heard Thor say that he’d be around a while, that  _ Julia  _ probably needed some work done, in that soft, gently apologetic tone he had adopted all morning; or perhaps it had been Thor’s general tone since the beginning, only Loki hadn’t seen it for what it was until then _.  _ Loki responded only with a stiff nod, as he had everything else that day, when he had to respond at all. He followed Thor into the main store. The scent of rubber, ammonia detergent, diesel and fried snacks made him recoil, so foreign after the verdant aroma of the cabin.

 

Julia was as rough-hewn and utilitarian as her operation; a heavy-set woman in her fifties with a clipped speech. She eyed Loki with a beat of surprise as he shadowed Thor but returned to her affairs without a single question. Loki surmised that her exchanges with Thor were as straightforward as their bartering arrangement, forgoing unnecessary prying. 

 

He ignored Thor and Julia’s discussion, his eyes scanning the surroundings until they landed on the list of destinations on the faded and stained bus schedule pinned to the wall. Loki suddenly felt slightly sick. 

 

Hearing his name made him turn his eyes towards Thor, staring while refusing to actually  _ look _ back at him.

 

“Julia seems to have trouble with her internet connection on the cash computer. Think that’s something you could manage?”

 

That unbearably gentle smile.

 

Loki felt a strange, jumbled mix of emotions at the request, Thor’s expression of faith in Loki’s potential usefulness feeling uncomfortably close again to  _ affection _ . He bristled and hardened himself against it.

 

_ Just stop being  _ nice _ to me. Stop trying to help. It makes it so much worse. _

 

He nonetheless turned to Julia who seemed to approve of his equally tight-lipped, efficient manner as he followed her obediently to the counter. Meanwhile Thor disappeared though the backstore doors.

 

Tinkering with the wires and modem and getting lost in the task offered a slight distraction from the nausea settling into his stomach. After nearly half an hour of work, he was rewarded with a pleased grunt from Julia when she noticed the restored systems on the screen. She faced him and indicated the rows of products and supplies with a jerk of her chin.

 

“Need anything? Go and grab it.” She said, evidently extending the bartering offer to Loki. 

 

He pondered it and asked, even though forcing the words out was accompanied by a renewed wave of queasiness:

 

“Can I make that a bus ticket?”

 

He had to keep moving. He had no other choice.

 

Julia’s eyes narrowed a hint but she nodded, ever forthright. 

 

“We can arrange that. Lemme know what you need.”

 

Loki swallowed and retreated to the wall covered in magazines, to wait, though he was unsure of what was left waiting for; some sort of closure. It’s not like he  _ wanted _ goodbyes or had anything left to say to Thor altogether. He wished the ache in his stomach would go away; perhaps it wouldn’t until Thor had left. Then again perhaps he would have to live with it for a very long time.

 

He glanced at the back doors when he heard them part and Thor emerged, carrying two canisters of fuel for his generator and some nondescript bag of supplies. He made several trips back and forth between his truck and the store, gathering various products. They briefly locked eyes every time. If he had been staying, Loki would have asked what Thor had fixed or built. It didn’t matter now.

 

When Thor returned to settle business with Julia at the counter, Loki knew this was the end. Their time was up at last. It was over. Loki couldn’t tell whether what he felt was despair or panic, but it didn’t matter anyway. It didn’t matter. He just wished he didn’t feel so sick.

 

He heard a voice.

 

“Hey…”

 

With a sideway glance, Loki saw the man a few steps next to him, presuming to be interested in the magazines as he looked at Loki. 

 

Loki knew that look.  _ Christ _ ;  _ already _ . They were all so predictable.

 

_ Well, there is it, Thor. The fucking world. Isn’t it grand. Just go and have your nice life away from it all. _

 

He was staring hard at the back of Thor’s head, who was finishing his business with Julia. He found that anger somehow managed cut through that awful nausea. The room had stopped swaying; it was still and sharp and  _ cold _ .    
  
He waited for the man to make the inevitable next move. 

 

“You… okay? Are you alone?”

 

The man’s voice was too hushed for Thor to have heard. Loki then looked back at him, raising his eyebrows in open, innocent question. 

 

“Sorry, what?” He piped. He sensed that Thor had gone rigid at that.

 

“Are you alone? Need a ride?” 

 

Whoever this guy was, Loki  _ hated _ him; his beady eyes behind his glasses, his balding spot, his cheap suit and general attempt at looking the part of a decent member of society, the gold band on his ring finger, his  _ fucking dumb _ wife who was making this loser believe he was so  _ fucking smooth and smart _ that he could have it all, like picking up troubled things while on his so-called  _ business trip _ ...

 

But the guy had just given him a blade; and Loki suddenly felt like  _ cutting _ .

 

“Yeah,” He said, “I’m alone.”

 

The guy’s voice droned in response.

 

Loki couldn’t hear anything.

 

Thor was moving towards them like a storm, a great, dark cloud; Mount St. Helens flattening a forest. 

 

Loki saw the steel-blue eyes  _ blaze _ as Thor glared at the stranger before stepping between him and Loki.

 

“I need help carrying the supplies.” He growled with a voice like distant thunder.

 

The man didn’t protest; he paled before rushing to the cash to pay for his gas. 

 

Taken aback, Loki could only stare at Thor who only produced a terse nod. He then turned and stormed to the exit. Too shocked to form a single thought, Loki nonetheless scrambled in his wake and followed him out to the truck. He was almost expecting Thor to pull him back out or to argue as he clambered into the truck cab yet Thor was starting it up without a word. Loki was barely seated when he had to brace himself onto the dash as they tore away from the store’s lot.

 

As the roar of the engine and sound of bullet-like pebbles kicked up by the wheels resonated through his head, Loki could hardly breathe. His heart was frantically pounding as shock and hope bubbled into his chest, threatening to smother him.

 

He was also paralyzed with  _ fear,  _ the dread that making a sound, or the slightest movement, could shift a fragile balance and abruptly sway Thor’s mind again; that he would stop and turn the truck back around. He had no idea what Thor was thinking. The silence between them was still stony, Thor’s eyes sternly ahead, only flinching to follow the road’s twists and turns.

 

With the passing minutes and distance, Loki’s gaze kept flicking to Thor’s hands, those knuckles wound tight around the wheel. Loki was urging the truck forward through sheer power of will.

 

_ Don’t turn… Please don’t turn back; just keep going, keep going… Please, please make this real; please make this be real… _

 

When the drive was finally over and Thor turned off the ignition, back in the same patch of cleared forest they had left earlier, Loki was skittish and quiet as he slipped out of the truck, watching Thor’s every move by peering over the vehicle.

 

Thor on the other hand didn’t spare Loki a single glance as he walked back to the truck bed and began carrying supplies to the cabin. His face was an unreadable mask but his body was wired, his movements tense. 

 

It was nothing like the steady, placid demeanour Loki had known until then. Loki now desperately wanted to know this as well; what turmoil and drives and  _ needs _ roiling just under Thor’s skin. He shadowed Thor’s steps from the cabin to the truck and back again, hauling whatever goods he could grab by himself. His spirits were rapidly sinking again, with Thor not meeting his eye or speaking. A wary sort of guilt began replacing his shock and confusion.  

 

_ He _ had done this. 

 

Looking back on what he’d done at the store, how he had taunted Thor using that stupid lecher, it had been so reckless, so deliberately spiteful. He had _wanted_ Thor to worry, to feel guilty. He had known that Thor cared enough for his barb to reach its target. It had worked _,_ even beyond Loki’s own hopes. Yet all he had really achieved was removing all trace of serenity or comfort in Thor and showing Thor exactly how much of a _fuck-up_ he was.

 

_ You really are awful. He’s stuck with you now, only because you’re a selfish, pitiful mess; nothing else… _

 

As he stood in a corner of the cabin, watching Thor stiffly putting away various products, Loki began feeling as if he were fraying at the edges. He didn’t want to go; he didn’t want to stay. He didn’t ever belong anywhere yet he never managed to simply  _ disappear _ either. 

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

His throat too tight to manage anything more, Loki’s words came out hoarsely, on a whisper.

Yet Thor stopped dead and turned to face him. Loki struggled to look back at him, struggled to explain, to say that he’d just  _ go  _ already, that he hadn’t meant it,  _ I wouldn’t have _ ….  _ I didn’t want to _ …  _ I didn’t know what _ …  _ I won’t _ ... 

 

“I’m sorry… I’m _sorry_...”

 

They were the only words he could spill out as Thor approached him and Loki threw a hand before himself, because he didn’t want Thor to try being  _ helpful _ and  _ good _ anymore; there was no point and Loki knew it and Thor…

 

There was no stopping Thor when he reached around Loki’s neck, fingers carding through his hair, cradling his head and Loki was pulled forward against him. 

 

It was so  _ much _ , Thor’s strong grip, the sudden, overwhelming heat from his body, from his breath as it skimmed Loki’s temple and cheek, his ragged voice as Loki became dimly aware of his words:

 

“ _ No _ ; no, Loki…  _ I’m _ sorry…. I’m  _ so _ sorry…  _ Loki _ …”

 

Thor’s hands were holding Loki’s face, fingers skimming over his cheeks, his ears, his jaw and even though Loki was nearly drowning in this, it was also acutely  _ not enough _ . His own hands clutched at Thor’s shirt and he angled his head, awkwardly, desperately until his mouth found Thor’s _.  _ He let his lips fall open when Thor eagerly accepted his offering, kissing and tasting Loki as he growled and crushed their bodies closer together. Loki had never been kissed this way. The hot, wet sensation of Thor’s tongue coaxing his own, Thor’s breath filling his mouth, Thor overtaking him; it was both intoxicating and frightening to behold, how much more blistering it would become and how sharply Loki  _ wanted _ all of it. 

 

He hadn’t been aware that they had shifted through the room until the edge of the table hit the back of his thighs. He could feel Thor’s restraint dissolve as his hands roamed over him more roughly, seeking Loki’s bare skin as he rucked up his shirt, fingers slotting over each rib. Loki wondered dizzily whether he meant to reach fully inside him, to open and feast on him; and Loki fell back, clutching Thor’s hair, demanding his weight upon himself. In return, Thor moaned hungrily as he flattened Loki against the hard surface and Loki scarcely recognized the needy sounds, nearly sobs, that began spilling from his own throat.

 

At some point Thor pulled back and their gazes met. Thor’s eyes were wide and wrecked and Loki wondered how desperate or terrified his own appeared as the haze cast upon Thor seemed to lift and he struggled to speak:

 

“ _ Loki _ … I don’t… You have to…”

 

He began standing upright but Loki grasped at him hard enough to scratch.

 

“No... no…  _ no _ …” He all but snarled as he pulled Thor back to him. 

 

He thought he heard Thor huff some muddled words about  _ bed  _ and  _ hurt  _ but Loki was having none of it. Who knew what could happen in a few meters between here and the other room. Loki would not lose this, couldn’t bear the thought of Thor’s hands off him. He would instantly wither, or break, or fly apart, as if he had sublimated to wisps of steam and shifting flames and Thor’s touch was the only thing keeping him whole.

 

He won against Thor’s resolve once more as Thor’s mouth returned to his neck, branding him with kisses and shallow, stinging bites that reduced him again to pliant whimpers.

 

Overwrought with need, Loki was vying for Thor’s skin as well, his efforts frustrated by their combined movements and the small buttons of Thor’s shirt. Once Thor obliged and shed the offending fabric himself, the expanse of naked flesh, heated and golden against Loki’s, was nearly unbearable, Loki’s arousal close to stifling him. He was lost, keenly aware of how inexperienced he was in this, unable to respond to Thor with anything more than desperate clutching and clumsy kisses, yet he wanted Thor to need this, to need  _ him _ , to take  _ enough _ from him, to take much more; take  _ everything _ . 

 

He screwed his eyes shut as he held on to Thor’s broad shoulders though it offered no help against touch; the feel of silky smooth skin, prickly in some places from glinting bristles; warmth rising in a haze between them; the sinuous rhythm they had fallen into as Thor pressed his hips down, working Loki’s legs apart. With every breath Loki felt a burn and tightness swell within his skin; he distantly knew what his body was working itself up to, though  _ no _ , it wasn’t time; not  _ yet _ . They needed more,  _ longer _ . He arched back, seeking purchase against the building pressure but Thor’s bulk suddenly settled deep into the cradle of his hips, the rough drag against his clothed, strained erection sending sparks up his spine. He gasped with bliss and alarm. He had to stop, it was too  _ good _ and too  _ much _ and Loki couldn’t… He wouldn’t be able to let Thor…  _ Thor _ …

 

Loki again threw himself back but it was too late; electric bliss erupted from his core, spreading through his limbs and blinding all thoughts as the wave washed high over his head. 

 

Even though he floated through a lush fog of pleasure, Loki let out a keen, raw at the loss of his own self, at failing Thor in that the act, he felt, had not be properly completed. Felled and limp upon the table he fought to regain some measure of control or strength until Thor embraced him again, scooping him up within his arms as if Loki were but a bundle of feathers. 

 

Perhaps he was; falling apart as he was with mere breaths.      

  
  


****

 

Thor had failed. 

 

Yet it felt so good to have failed, to have Loki back, looking so alive and so  _ whole _ again.

He had  _ tried _ .    
  
All through the dreadful, previous night, all the way to Steele he had resolved to lose Loki; accepted that the woods, the cabin, the stream, his  _ bed  _ would forever bear Loki’s shadow. He had been incapable of letting him fade away. 

 

Thor had already been in shreds and wavering when that man, that  _ scavenger _ had approached Loki, as if he wasn’t infinitely too beautiful and bright; as if he wasn’t  _ Thor’s _ .

 

Loki would vanish into a murky world and the darkness left would be unbearable.

 

Nothing had been shining so brightly all those years, not since that night long ago. Somehow, Loki had been the first thing brighter than the moon. In the end, Thor hadn’t been able to release him, resenting his own weakness all the way back to the cabin.

 

Then Loki’s warmth, his  _ hunger _ had been so intense that Thor could taste them. He was left unable to speak as Loki invited,  _ urged _ him upon himself. Loki did not understand how every, feather-light touch was like fire to Thor; Loki was everything he wanted and he hadn’t dared  _ want _ in a long time.  

 

Now Loki was recovering in the shower; gentle sounds of movement and life drifting again through his home. Thor, lying back on the bed, steeled himself for what would come next. He had been unable to protect Loki so he would have to fight.

  
All that was left was to fight the darkness.


End file.
